Some Other Benefits of Hiding
by Pheonicia
Summary: A Meh Ayleidon tribute. Sort of. Rated M for adult themes, horrific slash pairings, the mocking of romance novels, rampant OOCness, bad euphemisms, and being horribly squicky. Flee while you still can.


**WARNING! TURN BACK NOW!**

You DON'T want to read this. Contains mature themes, deviant concepts, and frightening mental imagery.

And all credit must go to the lovely and talented JawsOfOblivion, who begged (dared) me to write this story, and graciously allowed the use of her character Styrbrand. Thank you dear!!

Author assumes no liability for gouging out of eyes, loss of bladder control due to laughter, or any other side effects that may occur.

* * *

"Come in!" Martin called cheerfully, willing his voice to remain calm. A difficult task, as the mere sight of the majestic mountain of a man, golden hair waving in the draft, blue eyes flashing like two sapphires, muscles flexing underneath his clinging tunic, was enough to set his heart aflutter.

"Oh, Styrbrand. You have saved my life, and I treated you so contemptibly! However can I make it up to you?" Martin asked. The Nord blushed, crimson glow suffusing his chiselled jaw and strong cheekbones. Ah, what a glorious sight!

"Oh, my Emperor, you speak too sweetly! For it was not of my own desires that your life was spared as I fought off those fifty dremora warriors that had surrounded you with pointy swords, but the work of Destiny," Styrbrand modestly protested, eyes fixed to the carpet.

"Ah, what cruelty is this? Such words do wound me to my soul, to hear you say that you were merely acting as the hand of Fate," Martin cried, tearing his robe clean off in his grief.

"Oh no, my Emperor! Do not take my uncultured speech so! For my heart is yours, entwined in the workings of Providence," Styrbrand protested, grabbing Martin in his giant arms.

"Glorious day!" Martin murmured before mashing his lips against that of the Nord's in a passionate kiss, the intensity of which reached down to his very toes. Desires were inflamed as hands and lips explored, clothing being conveniently removed.

"By the Nine! Such a thing is dangerous to handle!" Martin exclaimed, having discovered the trouser titan that was unsheathed with the removal of Styrbrand's breeches. "But I shall attempt to do so. Be gentle, for though I've done this nigh on fourscore times before, often with giant daedra, I am but an innocent Priest of Akatosh."

"Martin, my dearest, I shall never let harm come to you!" Styrbrand soothed, burying his pulsating man meat up to the hilt. He was insensible with lust as his wildest fantasies came true.

"Emperor! What is going on?" Jauffre exclaimed from the doorway, transfixed at the sight.

"Emperor? Come, friend, let us dispense with the formalities," Martin replied as the fires of desire were fueled with every movement. "I asked you not to call me that."

"So you did. Forgive me...daddy," Jauffre answered, removing his monk's robe as he moved to join them.

"Ooh, the tassels. Twirl them for me!" Martin cried, so aflame with passion that he felt wisps of smoke may soon pour from his ears, similar to the wisps of grey hair that peeked out from Jauffre's fishnet stockings, like steelwool clouds straining to be free of their netted boundaries. The tasseled pasties, covered in black sequins, whirled seductively above the fine lace corset. No fabric dared to hide the beautiful sight of the Grandmaster's twig and berries though, already stiff with need.

"Do we have any cream? For I do so wish to please my sexy whipped cream daddy!" Jauffre inquired, soft pink tongue flicking the air in a saucy fashion.

"Alas, no, but get that tightly muscled ass, baby smooth despite your advanced years, over here," Martin called, his twitching divining rod of lust yearning to impale.

"Glah, Narlin!" Styrbrand moaned, incoherent with passion.

"Ooh, daddy!" Jauffre cried, wriggling his rump with delight.

"By the Gods! What is going on?" Baurus shouted as he walked into the room. "And why wasn't I invited? I'm so sick of Bosmers and cake. What I really need are some steak and potatoes, if you know what I mean."

"I can help you with that," Jauffre offered before gasping, moaning, writhing, and generally making sounds of passion.

"No, thanks. We did that yesterday," Baurus politely declined, stripping his clothes while walking over to Styrbrand. "Rawr, hello, my fluffy darling. Such soft flaxen hair - you're so cute, you're like a little chick. Can you cluck for me, my dear?"

"Quack!" Styrbrand cried, mad with desire.

"Close enough. Let me just get my quavering yogurt thrower into position. Ah, there we go."

"Baa!" Styrbrand moaned, insensible with passion.

"Rawr!" Baurus cried.

"Daddy!" Jauffre screamed.

"Father Akatosh!" Martin yelled.

The writhing mass of undulating man flesh squirmed and wiggled in a dance of pleasure, until finally all reached the pinnacle of bliss as one, the intensity comparable only to that of erupting volcanoes, massive earthquakes, and gushing geysers. Exhausted, satisfied, and satiated they fell onto the bed in a heap.

Much petting, snuggling, spooning, and cuddling ensued. Just before they all drifted off to sleep in each other's arms Jauffre's quiet voice was heard.

"Oh dear, did you see what we did to the carpet?"


End file.
